;•- 


(C.RICH'DWHITTEMORE 
Rare  Books 

ASHLAND.    MASS. 


INTO  LIGHT, 


AND    OTHER    POEMS, 


BY 

FREDERICK   K.    CROSBY, 
/i 

Born  in  Newton,  Mass.,  October  9th,  1845,  Died  December  3d,  1874. 


PRINTED   FOR   PRIVATE   DISTRIBUTION. 


BOSTON: 

W.  F.  BROWN  &  Co.,  PRINTERS,  50  BROMFIELD  STREET. 
1876 


..       ••.. . 

.'.•••:!..;/•••....• 


INDEX. 


INTO  LIGHT,     ,        ......  5 

THE  LILY  AND  THE  LINDEN,     ......  14 

LORRAINE,        ..........  18 

NIGHT  AND  MORNING,        .......  22 

FLOWER  TONES,       ......       -        .        .  23 

LINES  SUGGESTED  BY  A  FAVORITE  PICTURE,    ...  24 

THE  VELOCIPEDE,    .........  25 

Two  MORNINGS,  .........  27 

ANSWERED  ...........  28 

AUTUMN,       ..........  29 

SLUMBER  SONG,       .........  30 

TWIN  SISTERS,     .........  31 

AT  THE  LAST,          .                       ......  33 

THE  TRUANTS,     .........  35 

EASTER,    ........       ...  38 

UNDER  THE  PALMS,     ........  40 

HINTS  ON  GRAPE  CULTURE,  .......  42 

MIDNIGHT  ON  BERKSHIRE,          .....        .  44 


M175552 


IV  INDEX. 

THE  BACHELOR'S  PRAYER, 46 

APOTHEOSIS, 48 

THE  RITUALIST,      .        .        .       .        .  .        .       .49 

STEWART'S  QUARTERLY.    [In  Memoriam,] .        .        .        .  51 

UNCHANGEABLE, "    .        .        .        -54 

M.  D.  TO  EM-MA, 55 

CHRISTMAS  CAROL, 57 

DELICIOUS,   .        .       ,       .....       .        .  59 

L'lNFERNO,                    * 62 

LOVE  AND  INSURANCE,  A  TALE  OF  CHICAGO,    ...  64 

SIR  LAWRENCE, 67 

A  CHAPTER  OF  ERIE  [Canal.]    ....       .       ,        .  68 


INTO  LIGHT,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


INTO     LIGHT. 

A  SUMMER'S  sunshine,  a  scene  as  fair 
A  rural  landscape  pictured  there, 

Vale  and  meadow  and  mountain  'gray, 
Robed  in  the  hues  of  the  risen  day. 

A  river  swept  o'er  its  shining  sands, 
The  corn  grew  ripe  in  the  meadow  lands, 

Over  the  mountain  slope  between, 
A  woodland  lifted  its  wall  of  green  ; 

It  hid  in  its  heart  an  open  glade, 

A  fleck  of  light  on  a  ground  of  shade. 

Afar  the  wandering  breezes  crept, 
The  sighing  wind  of  the  forest  slept. 


6  INTO     LIGHT, 

A  brook  hard  by,  in  a  hidden  dell, 
Over  its  pebbles  plashed  and  fell, 

Naught  else  the  solemh  stillness  stirred 
Save  distant  echo  or  chirp  of  bird. 

The  circling  trees  of  the  sylvan  glade, 
In  Summer's  richest  robes  arrayed, 

Stood  tall  and  grim  in  mystic  guise, 
Like  priests  awaiting  the  sacrifice. 

For  through  a  rift  in  the  leafy  screen 
An  oriel  slit  in  the  vaulted  green. 

The  flickering  sunlight  streamed  upon 
A  rough-hewn  altar  of  mossy  stone  ; 

Yet,  though  the  spot  was  wild  and  rude, 
And  weird  and  sombre  the  solitude, 

Meet  home  for  rites  of  fetish-prayer, 
No  untaught  savage  worshipped  there. 

Unto  the  altar,  day  by  day, 

Two  earnest  youths  would  wend  their  way, 

Of  native  insight  broad  and  clear, 
And  bred  in  Learning's  atmosphere, 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  7 

But,  lured  by  mental  tone  inwrought, 
And  warped  and  wrung  by  over-thought, 

By  shifting  currents  beat  about, 

And  tossed  from  wave  to  wave  of  doubt, 

While  shore-lights  beckoned  but  to  flee, 
Their  sun  went  down  on  a  trackless  sea. 

Yet  ever  reached  they  in  affright, 
Vague,  trustless  hands  into  the  night, 

Now  fixed  in  cold  and  stern  despair, 
Now  lost  in  broken,  pleading  prayer, 

Before  the  altar,  bending  low, 
The  waves  of  intercession  flow ; 

Wild  words,  with  wilder  meaning  fraught, 
Strange  spells  by  ancient  magic  taught. 

And  high  upon  the  rising  breeze, 
Death-rimes  and  heathen  litanies, 

In  blending  chorus  mingled  there 
With  muffled  wail  and  passion-prayer. 

The  sun  sinks  down  o'er  the  mountain  gray, 
And  the  altar  glows  in  its  dying  ray. 


8  INTO     LIGHT, 

"Hail !   emblem  of  the  Hidden  Soul ! 
"Farewell !  in  burning  beauty  roll 

"Thy  God-lit  flame  to  the  neither  seas, 
"Archflamen  of  all  mysteries  !  " 

Night  settled  round  with  a  sullen  shade, 
And  silence  falls  on  the  forest  glade. 

Far  thro*  the  leafy  arches  dim 

A  wild,  mysterious,  mournful  hymn, 

On  rising,  sinking,  swelling  breeze, 
Flung  weird  and  ghost-like  harmonies  ; 

And  still  the  darkness  deepened  fast, 
And  strange,  unearthly  voices  passed, 

And  still  the  shuddering  echo  run, 
"Oh,  Ahriman  !     Oh,  Ahriman  !  " 


The  mellow  light  of  an  afternoon, 
Crowning  a  golden  day  in  June. 

Vale  and  river  and  meadow-lea 
Swam  in  a  sun-flushed  purple  sea. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS. 

The  peak's  tall  masses,  lifted  high 
In  softened  outline  against  the  sky, 

Thro'  melting  mist-robes  looked  alow 
On  a  landscape  rosy  with  summer  glow. 

Over  the  hill's  green  mantle  spread 

A  white  road  wound  like  a  silver  thread. 

Dotted  and  shadowed  here  and  there 

With  clustered  chestnuts  and  poplars  spare. 

Under  the  edge  of  a  skirting  wood, 
Half-seen,  a  low  red  school-house  stood. 

Calm  and  still  was  the  shady  nook, 

The  white  blooms  fell  in  the  pasture  brook 

And  studded  the  rich  green  turf  below 
With  fragrant  handfuls  of  sprinkled  snow. 

Up  the  hillside,  toward  the  glade, 
The  twain  their  daily  journey  made, 

With  weary  step  and  downcast  mien, 
And  heedless  all  of  the  smiling  scene, 

They  neared  the  nestling  cottage  fair, 
And,  halting,  stopped  to  listen  there  ; 


10  INTO    LIGHT, 

For,  from  within  the  humble  walls, 
A  murmur  low  at  intervals 

In  alternating,  measured  frame, 
Thro'  the  half-open  casement  came. 

The  slow  chant  trembled  to  its  close, 
And  gentle,  earnest  tones  arose, 

So  soft,  so  sweet,  so  strangely  clear, 
Entranced,  they  could  not  choose  but  hear. 

Nearer  the  vine-hung  porch  they  drew, 
The  tangled  branches  peering  through, 

And  in  a  room,  time-browned  and  low, 
Dim  in  the  dusky  Western  glow, 

A  fair-haired  maiden  they  espied, 
With  children  clustering  at  her  side. 

Over  her  open  book  she  bowed, 
And  read  His  sacred  words  aloud, 

Whose  echoes  mid  the  Syrian  trees, 
Come  sounding  down  the  centuries. 

Of  all-subduing  grace  she  read, 
Of  law  by  love  interpreted, 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  11 

Of  Hope,  with  perfect  Trust  allied, 
The  joy  of  souls  beatified. 

She  read  the  blest  assurance  given 
Of  endless  bliss,  of  Home,  of  Heaven  ! 

Hushed  was  her  voice's  gentle  spell, 
And,  as  a  deeper  stillness  fell 

The  group  a  kneeling  circle  made, 
And  there,  Madonna-like,  she  prayed. 

She  prayed  the  Son's  own  tenderness, 
Warm  with  the  Infinite  caress, 

To  shed  on  each  dear  suppliant  bent 
The  blessing  of  its  sacrament,    . 

That  all  might  seek  the  unfading  prize, 
In  every  heart  His  altar  rise, 

That  with  His  truth's  benignant  rays, 
He  would  illume  all  darkened  ways, 

Roll  back  the  threatening  clouds  above, 
And  clothe  the  world  with  light  and  love, 

Till  to  each  soul  with  sin  o'ercast 
The  kiss  of  peace  should  come  at  last ! 


12  INTO    LIGHT, 

Then  all  was  still,  save  the  evening  breeze 
Stirring  amid  the  chestnut  trees. 

The  listening  friends  bent  breathless  near, 
And  hushed  their  very  hearts  to  hear ; 

Then,  from  their  hiding-place  uprise, 
And  look  into  each  other's  eyes. 

Slow,  turning  from  the  open  door, 
Their  upward  path  they  take  once  more. 

They  pass  the  wood,  they  ,cross  the  rill, 
The  school-house  sinks  behind  the  hill ; 

The  forest  rears  its  frowning  height, 
They  plunge  into  its  sombre  night. 

That  morn  the  rising  sun  had  shone 
On  a  tree-girt  altar  of  mossy  stone, 

When  the  sunshine  faded  to  sunset  glow, 
The  tree-girt  altar  lay  levelled  low ! 

And  hope  is  dawning  in  tear-wet  eyes, 
Pure  prayers  from  trembling  lips  arise, 

And  each  o'er-wearied  heart  is  full 
Of  Rest  and  Peace  ineffable ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  13 

The  last  dim  rays  of  the  twilight  fade, 
The  night  dews  fall  on  the  forest  glade, 

Thro'  the  quiet  wood  the  rustling  breeze 
Around  sang  sweetest  symphonies. 

The  moon  rose  up  and  her  silver  glow 
Shown  fair  on  the  kneeling  forms  below; 

But  a  light  more  pure  and  radiant  yet 
In  their  hearts'  deep  heart  is  forever  set, 

Whose  rays  shall  the  gathering  clouds  illume 
And  pierce  the  veil  of  the  densest  gloom, 

Till  it  shines  at  last  o'er  Death's  silent  sea 
The  day-star  of  Eternity ! 


14  INTO     LIGHT, 


THE   LILY   AND    THE   LINDEN. 

PART  I. 
Far  away  under  skies  of  blue, 

In  a  pleasant  land  beyond  the  sea, 
Bathed  in  sunlight  and  washed  with  dew, 

Budded  and  bloomed  the  fleur-de-lis. 

Through  mists  of  morning,  one  by  one, 
Grandly  the  perfect  leaves  unfold, 

And  the  dusky  glow  of  the  sinking  sun, 
Flushed  and  deepened  the  hues  of  gold. 

She  saw  him  rise  o'er  the  rolling  Rhine, 
She  saw  him  set  in  the  Western  sea, 

"Where  is  the  empress,  garden  mine, 
"Doth  rule  a  realm  like  the  fleur-de-lis  ? 

"The  forest  trembles  before  my  breath 

"From  the   island  oak  to  the  northern  pine, 

"And  the  blossoms  pale  with  the  hue  of  death, 
"When  my  anger  rustles  the  tropic  vine. 


AND     OTHER    POEMS.  15 

"The  lotus  wakes  from  its  slumbers  lone 

"To  waft  its  homage  unto  me, 
"And  the  spice-groves  lay  before  my  throne 

"The  tribute  due  to  the  fleur-de-lis!" 

So  hailed  she  vassals  far  and  wide, 

Till  her  glance  swept  over  a  hemisphere  ; 

But  noted  not  in  her  queenly  pride, 
A  slender  sapling  growing  near. 

Slow  uprising  o'er  glade  and  glen, 
Its  branches  bent  in  the  breezes  free, 

But  its  roots  were  set  in  the  hearts  of  men 
Who  gave  their  lives  to  the  linden  tree. 

Speak,  O  Seer  of  the  mighty  mien  ! 

Answer,  Sage  of  the  mystic  air! 
What  is  the  lot  of  the  linden  green  ? 

What  is  the  fate  of  the  lily  fair  ? 

"Hearst  thou  the  wail  of  the  winter  wake? 

"Hearst  thou  the  roar  of  the  angry  sea? 
"Ask  not,  for  God's  own  thunders  break 

"On  the  linden  fair  and  the  fleur-de-lis!" 


!»'»  INTO      LIGHT, 

PART  II. 

The  storm-clouds  fade  from  the  murky  air, 
Again  the  freshening  breezes  blow, 

The  sunbeams  rest  on  the  garden  rare, 
But  the  lily  lies  buried  beneath  the  snow. 

From  the  ice-locked  Rhine  to  the  Western  sea, 

Mournfully  winds  the  wintry  pall, 
Cold  and  still  is  the  fleur-de-lis, 

But  the  linden  threatens  to  shadow  all ! 

Frowning  down  on  the  forest  wide, 

Darkly  loometh  his  giant  form, 
Alone  he  stands  in  his  kingly  pride, 

And  mocks  at  whirlwind  and  laughs  at  storm. 

Speak,  O  Sage  of  the  mystic  air ! 

Answer,  Seer  of  the  mighty  mien ! 
Must  all  the  trees  of  the  forest  fair 

Fall  at  the  feet  of  the  linden  green  ? 

"Thus  shall  the  seal  of  the  future  be, 

''Thus  I  divine  the  fates  of  all ! 
"A  worm  is  sapping  the  linden  tree, 

"The  pride  that  goeth  before  a  fall. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  17 

"For  shame  may  come  to  the  haughty  crest, 
"A  storm  may  sweep  from  the  Northern  sea, 

"Winds  from  the  East  and  winds  from  the  West, 
"May  blow  in  wrath  on  the  linden  tree. 

"Here  where  the  voice  of  the  winter  grieves, 

"The  lily  hath  lain  its  regal  head, 
"Bright  was  the  hue  of  the  golden  leaves, 

"But  the  lily  was  flecked  with  spots  of  red. 

"Beyond  the  cloud  of  the  battle  strife, 

"The  glow  of  resurrection  see ! 
"Lo  !   I  proclaim  a  newer  life, 

"A  purer  birth  of  the  fleur-de-lis ! 

Thus  saith  the  Seer  of  the  mighty  mien, 
Thus  saith  the  Sage  of  the  mystic  air. 

And  the  sunshine  fell  from  the  linden  green  — 
And  gilded  the  grave  of  the  lily  fair. 


18  INTO     LIGHT, 


LORRAINE. 

PART  I. 

Sweetly  the  June  time  twilights  wane, 
Over  the  hills  of  fair  Lorraine. 

Sweetly  the  mellow  moonbeams  fall, 
O'er  rose-wreathed  cottage  and  ivied  wall. 

But  never  dawned  a  brighter  eve 
Then  the  holy  night  of  St.  Genevieve, 

And  never  moonlight  fairer  fell 
Over  the  banks  of  the  blue  Moselle. 

Richly  the  silver  splendor  shines, 
Spangles  with  sheen  the  clustered  vines. 

And  rests  in  benediction  fair, 

On  midnight  tresses  and  golden  hair. 

Golden  hair  and  midnight  tress 
Mingle  in  tender  lovingness, 


AND     OTHER    POEMS.  19 

While  the  evening  breezes  breathe  upon 
Marie  and  Jean,  and  their  hearts  are  one ! 

The  spell  of  silence  lifts  at  last, 
"Marie,  the  Saint's  sweet  day  is  past, 

"The  vesper  chimes  have  died  away, 
Where  shall  we  be  on  New  Year's  day  ? " 

With  answering  throb  heart  thrilled  to  heart, 
Hand  met  hand  with  sudden  start, 

For  in  each  soul  shone  the  blessed  thought, 
The  vision  fair  of  a  little  cot 

Nestled  beneath  the  lilac  spray, 
Waiting  the  blissful  bridal  day. 

Low  bowed  in  tearful  silence  there, 
Their  hearts  rose  up  in  solemn  prayer. 

And  still  the  mellow  lustre  fell 
Over  the  banks  of  the  blue  Moselle. 

And  still  the  moonlight  shone  upon 

Marie  and  Juan,  and  their  hearts  were  one ! 


INTO    LIGHT, 

PART  II. 

Six  red  moons  have  rolled  away, 

And  the  sun  is  shining  on  New  Year's  day. 

Over  the  hills  of  fair  Lorraine, 
Heaps  of  ashes,  and  rows  of  slain  ; 

Where  merrily  rang  the  light  guitar, 
The  angry  tramp  of  the  red  hussar 

Flings  on  the  midnight's  shrinking  breath 
The  direful  notes  of  the  Dance  of  Death  ! 

Underneath  the  clustering  vines, 
The  sentry's  glittering  sabre  shines  ; 

Over  the  banks  of  the  blue  Moselle, 
Rain  of  rocket,  and  storm  of  shell ! 

Where;  to-day,  is  the  forehead  fair, 
Crowned  with  masses  of  midnight  hair  ? 

A  summer's  twilight  saw  him  fall 
Dead  on  Verdun's  leaguered  wall, 

Where,  alas!  is  the  little  cot? 

Ask  the  blackened  walls  of  Gravelotte. 


AND      OTHER     POEMS.  21 

Under  the  lilac,  broods  alone, 

A  maid  whose  heart  is  turned  to  stone, 

Who  sits,  with  folded  fingers,  dumb, 

And  meekly  prays  that  her  time  may  come. 

Yet  see !    the  Death-god's  baleful  star, 
And  War's  black  eagle  screams  afar! 

And  lo!   the  New  Year's  shadows  wane, 
Over  the  hills  of  sad  Lorraine. 


--  INTO    LIGHT, 


NIGHT    AND    MORNING. 

Low  sinks  the  sun  ;  a  crimson  glow  of  light 
Illumes  the  pathway  of  departing  day, 

And  gilds  the  sable  coronet  of  night 

Till  deepening  shadows  overcast  the  way. 

Now  rosy  twilight  turns  to  ashen  gray  ; 
Gone  are  the  glories  of  the  gleaming  west, 

The  skies  of  pearl,  the  amber-tinted  ray  ; 
And  the  soft  chiming  of  the  Hymn  of  Rest 
In  low  and  melancholy  cadence  dies  away. 

The  purple  dawn  the  slumbering  earth  hath  kissed 
And  bathed  the  pallid  East  in  hues  of  gold, 

The  sapphire  blending  with  the  amethyst, 
The  rubies'  glow  with  tints  of  emerald. 

In  regal  pomp  the  crystal  gates  unfold, 
And  morning  soars  on  youthful  pinions  free, 

To  fill  the  world  with  life  and  light  untold, 
Till  the  glad  earth  and  ever-sounding  sea, 
Enthroned  in  kingly  majesty  the  perfect  day 
behold. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  23 


FLOWER    TONES. 

I  strike  my  lute ;  it  answers  low, 

And  tender,  milk-white  roses  blow ; 

Celestial  music  thrills  the  string 

Where  lilies  fair  are  clustering, 

And  soars  its  way  to  upper  air 

Through  wreaths  and  rings  of  maiden's  hair. 

Again  the  liquid  sweetness  swells ! 

In  perfume  ope  the  heather  bells  ; 

It  sinks  again,  its  smothered  trills 

Are  lost  in  beds  of  daffodils, 

And  naught  remains  of  magic  tone, 

Save  the  faint  scent  of  orchis  blown ; 

Nor  echo  of  a  note  divine 

But  breathes  the  breath  of  eglantine. 

I  strike  my  lute  ;  it  answers  low, 

And  wreaths  are  wet  with  tears  of  woe  ; 

Entwined  amid  the  sobbing  strings 

The  melancholy  ivy  clings. 

Lo,  tones  of  plaintive  sorrow  sigh, 

And  in  the  pine-tree's  shadow  die. 


24  I  N  T  O     L  I  G  H  T, 

Again,  the  wail  of  wild  despair ! 

The  breath  of  nightshade  fills  the  air ; 

A  dirgeful  strain  is  pulsing  slow, 

Dark  ferns  and  weedy  brambles  grow ; 

A  dying  breeze  has  swept  the  strings, 

The  willows  wave,  the  cypress  swings  ; 

The  sun  is  set,  the  day  has  fled, 

The  lute  is  hushed,  the  flowers  are  dead. 


LINES 

SUGGESTED   BY  A   FAVORITE   PICTURE. 

When  o'er  our  graves  the  crescent  moon  shall  keep, 
Its  solemn  vigil  through  our  dreamless  sleep, 
Bright  may  its  rays  mid  verdant  branches  beam, 
And  shine  neglected  in  as  sweet  a  stream  ; 
When  sinks  the  moon  in  purple  mists  away, 
And  breaks  the  morning  of  the  perfect  day, 
Then  may  our  souls  be  infinitely  blest, 
Our  blissful  spirits  enter  into  rest. 


AND     OTHER    POEMS.  25 


THE    VELOCIPEDE. 

The  tree  of  knowledge  thrives  apace 

And  yields  to  each  successive  age 
Rich  store  of  ever-ripening  fruit, 

To  add  unto  its  heritage. 
Yet  sadly  spake  the  Jewish  king, 

Of  "nothing  new  beneath  the  sun ;  " 
How  pales  before  our  broader  light 

The  boasted  lore  of  Solomon  ! 

How  would  he  spurn  his  narrow  creed 
To  see  the  new  velocipede ! 

Reclining  in  my  study  chair, 

And  lost  to  sight  and  sounds  terrene, 
I  ponder  with  intensest  thought, 

The  case  of  Podgers  vs.  Green, 
When,  from  the  realms  of  upper  air, 

Reverberates  a  deafening  din, — 
"Is  it  a  meteoric  bolt  ? 

Or  has  the  chimney  tumbled  in  ? " 
"Be  calm,  sir;  no  such  trifles  heed; 
'Tis  Tom,  with  his  velocipede." 


26  INTOLIGHT, 

I  have  a  lingering  love,  I  own, 

For  an  old  doctrine  held  by  some, 
That  woman's  truest  sphere  is  found 

Within  the  hallowed  walls  of  home  ; 
But  when  the  babe  alarmed  the  house 

By  rolling  headlong  down  the.  stair, 
"Where 's  Mrs.  Jones  ? "  I  cried  to  Ann, 

With  hands  upraised  in  blank  despair  ; 
"She  's  at  the  Rink,"  replied  the  maid, 
"A  riding  the  velocypade  ! " 

One  grief  was  spared  the  Man  of  Uz, 

Though  sore  affliction  racked  his  frame  ; 
He  slumbered  with  his  fathers,  ere 

The  last  new  visitation  came. 
With  plaintive  moan,  "Oh,  Lord,  how  long!" 

Our  wearied  spirits  faintly  cry, 
"Cursed  be  the  father  of  our  woes, 

The  author  of  our  misery ! 
May  retribution  be  his  meed, 
As  swift  as  —  his  velocipede!" 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  27 


TWO    MORNINGS. 

A  faded  eve-star  westering  down, 
The  murky  tints  of  a  dawning  gray, 
The  first  faint  gleams  of  a  summer's  day 
The  sullen  lights  of  a  bastioned  town. 

A  noonday  splendor  the  valley  fills, 

The  broad  stream  murmurs  with  cheerful  tone, 

And  hark!  a  distant  trumpet  blown 

Beyond  the  circle  of  wooded  hills. 

The  sunset  glows  in  the  golden  west, 
A  rose-ray  reddens  the  hoary  walls, 
Around  a  brooding  murmur  falls 
Of  coming  quiet,  and  peace,  and  rest. 

A  pallid  eve-star  hastening  down, 
A  dun  smoke  shrouded  the  eastern  gray, 
A  broad  stream  lashed  into  bloody  spray, 
The  lurid  flames  of  a  captured  town  ! 


28  INTO     LIGHT, 

ANSWERED. 

We  sat  beneath  the  silent  stars, 

And  watched  the  sunset's  embers  die, 

The  north  shot  forth  its  glowing  bars, 
And  crimson  radiance  spanned  the  sky. 

Fair  rose  the  moon :  the  darkened  world 
Seemed  dipt  in  one  vast  silver  sea; 

Above,  the  fleecy  eddies  curled, 
The  air-tides  floated  silently. 

Upon  our  blissful  senses  sank 

The  spell  of  Peace,  of  Love,  of  Calm ! 

Earth-lost,  our  raptured  spirits  drank 
In  hallowed  Nature's  holiest  psalm  ! 

Dear  heart !    Like  saintly  incense  rise 
Her  soul's  pure  breathings  home  to  thee  ! 

"Thou  who  dost  make  our  Paradise, 

"Where  may  thy  heavenly  dwelling  be  ? " 

And  o'er  her  face  a  glory  passed  ; 

Faintly  I  whispered  in  her  ear, 
(My  long-kept  secret  free  at  last) 

"If  God  is  Love,  then  Heaven  is  here!" 


AND     OTHER    POEMS,  29 


AUTUMN. 

The  forest  said,  "behold  the  hour  hath  come, 
Low,  plaintive  murmurs  tremble  thro'  my  trees, 

Rude  winter  piped  his  clarion  call  afar, 

The  echoes  ride  upon  each  rustling  breeze  ; 

But  shall  we  bow  before  the  tyrant's  might 
Ere  o'er  again  the  answering  echoes  ring, 

In  woodland  pride,  undaunted  to  the  last, 

The  stern  defence  is,  of  the  forest  king." 

• 

With  loud  applause  the  leafy  banners  wake, 

A  thrill  of  life  shot  through  the  branches  old  ; 
Gone  are  the  garlands  of  the  living  green, 

The  forest  flames  in  scarlet  and  in  gold. 
The  warm  light  glowing  in  the  crimson  west, 

Lay  soft  upon  a  lustrous,  changeful  sea, 
Of  melting  dyes,  and  tints  of  liquid  pearl, 

And  purple  sheen  and  gleaming  blazonry. 

The  forest  glowed  with  grandeur,  but  at  last, 
Down  sank  the  sun  behind  the  western  cloud, 


30  INTOLIGHT, 

Chill  evening  shadows  darkened  on  the  hills 
And  cast  their  mantles  o'er  the  vesture  proud ; 

The  sighing  trees  beheld  the  fatal  sign, 

Then  bent  their  heads  the  coming  doom  to  meet. 

And  as  in  silence  came  the  icy  breath, 

They  mournful  rustled  to  the  conqueror's  feet. 


SLUMBER    SONG. 

Slumber,  soft  visions 

To  thy  guileless  bosom  fly, 
Sweet  and  low,  hovering  near, 

Angels  breathe  their  lullaby. 

Dreams  of  Peace,  dreams  of  Love, 
Seal  the  spirit's  raptured  eyes, 

Zephyrs  light,  attuned  above, 
Waft  the  soul  to  Paradise. 

Farewell  grief,  farewell  tears, 
Farewell  sorrow's  bitter  sigh, 

Earth  recedes,  Heaven  appears, 
Seraphs  sing  their  lullaby. 


AND     OTHER    POEMS,  31 


TWIN    SISTERS. 

Music,  transcendent  as  a  seraph's  kiss, 
Floats  from  above  the  Gate  of  Amethyst, 
And  flutters  softly  to  this  world  of  bliss. 

Plaintive  and  solemn  as  the  autumn  rain, 
Sighs  through  the  starless  space  a  sad  refrain, 
And  settles  darkly  on  this  world  of  pain  ! 

Ere  yet  upon  the  wakened  spirit  dies 
The  mingled  echo  from  the  distant  skies, 
Behold  the  language  of  their  harmonies. 

"Twin  sisters  we ;  whate'er  thine  earthly  state, 
Sorrow  and  Joy  upon  thy  wand'rings  wait, 
With  sheen  or  shadow  to  the  pearly  gate. 

"Through  all  the  weary  years  thou  would'st  have 

prest 

The  brighter  sister  to  thy  longing  breast, 
And  swathed  in  golden  music,  sunk  to  rest, 


32  INTO    LIGHT, 

"Hut  ever,  struggling  through  the  fairy  veil, 
The  darker  sister,  weird  and  passion-pale, 
Sobbed  through  the  night  her  melancholy  wail, 

"Nor  could'st  thou  tell  if  yet  the  mingled  strain 
That  echoed  strangely  through  thy  heart  again 
Were  sighs  of  joy  or  shudderings  of  pain. 

"Fly  not  the  pensive  Spirit,  nor  implore 
The  blissful  sister  for  her  sunshine  more ; 
We  both  must  guide  thee  to  the  further  shore. 

"Receive  us  both  ;  no  more  mid  shadow's  rove, 
See  through  the  storm  thy  radiant  home  above  ! 
We  do  but  lead  thee  to  our  mother,  Love ! " 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  33 


AT    THE    LAST. 

When  I  die, 

Lift  not  for  me  the  mourner's  sigh, 
Nor  bid  the  bitter  rain  to  fall ; 
Let  not  the  dark  funereal  pall 
O'ershadow,  as  I  pass  away, 
The  breath  and  bloom  of  perfect  day  ! 
And  let  no  sorrowing  anthem  rise, 
To  dim  with  tears  my  spirit  eyes, 
Nor  e'er  with  plaintive,  saddening  strain 
Recall  Earth's  scarce  remembered  pain  ; 
Free  and  unmingled  o'er  my  soul 
Let  Heaven's  melodious  music  roll  — 
No  parting  wail,  no  bitter  cry, 

When  I  die  ! 

When  I  die, 

Lift  up  your  yearning  spirits  high, 
To  where,  by  angel  hands  caressed, 
By  silver  falling  voices  blessed, 
While  back  rolls  Earth's  tempestuous  sea, 


34  INTOLIGHT, 

The  life  Elysian  dawns  for  me ! 
Low-breathing  zephyrs,  calm  and  cool, 
Borne  through  the  gate  called  Beautiful, 
Shall  waft  unto  your  fevered  eyes 
The  healing  dews  of  Paradise ! 
Peace,  troubled  hearts ;  the  mortal,  free, 
Hath  put  on  immortality ! 
Mourn  not  the  end  of  sorrows  nigh, 
When  I  die. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  35 


THE     TRUANTS. 

"Let's  hookey  Jack,  this  afternoon, 

And  have  a  game  of  ball, 
Of  one-old-cat  or  two-old-cat, 

Or  any  cat  at  all ! " 

And  Charlie  White  and  Harry  Blake, 

And  Tom,  and  Willie  Pool, 
Made  off  across  the  Deacon's  field, 

Well  out  of  sight  of  school. 

But  as  they  climbed  the  Deacon's  fence, 

Poor  Tom  must  push  awry 
A  hornet's  nest  —  and  then  what  came, 

You  know  as  well  as  I. 

Alas !  it  finished  Tommy's  sport 

Before  't  was  well  begun  ; 
And  back  in  school  his  tear-stained  face 

Appeared  at  half-past  one. 


36  I  N  T  O     L  I  G  H  T  , 

"No  two-old-cat  to-day,"  said  Will, 
And  through  the  corn  they  go ; 

But  why  should  luckless  Hal  forget 
The  ditch  that  lay  below  ? 

With  shoulder  lamed  and  jacket  torn, 
And  forehead  black  and  blue, 

His  heart  aquake,  poor  Harry  Blake, 
Limped  into  school  at  two. 

"No  one-old-cat  to-day,"  said  Will, 

"No  use  for  two  to  try  ; 
Give  me  the  bat  and  do  your  best 

At  catching  on  the  fly." 

Perhaps  'twas  only  Charlie's  fault 
That  let  the  ball  slip  through  ; 

But  at  the  school  a  swollen  nose 
Arrived  at  half-past  two. 

Alas  !  our  poor  unfortunates  — 
Reduced  from  four  to  one ; 

"No  matter,  then,"  said  sturdy  Will  ; 
"I  '11  toss  and  catch  alone." 


AND      OTHER      POEMS.  37 

His  lonely  game  was  brief  indeed, 

The  ball  lodged  in  a  tree, 
And  meek,  repentant,  master  Will 

Slunk  into  school  at  three  ! 

Behold  the  sum  of  all  their  sport, 

Their  honey  turned  to  gall ; 
No  one-old-cat,  no  two-old-cat, 

Nor  any  cat  at  all. 


38  INTO    LIGHT, 


EASTER. 

The  storm  has  passed,  the  lowering  cloud  is  spent ; 
No  more  with  gathering  tears  our  eyes  are  dim, 
The  lips  that  wailed  the  monotones  of  Lent 
Pour  forth  the  glories  of  the  Easter  Hymn. 
Yet  faintly  chime  the  dying  notes  afar, 
And  Miserere  blends  with  Gloria ! 

Although  no  more  entombed  the  Conqueror  lies, 

Must  then  the  Passion's  agony  forgotten  be  ? 
'Mid  your  grand  choral,  will  there  not  arise 
The  plaintive  minor  of  Gethsemane? 

Though  brightly  shines  the  Resurrection  morn 
Can  ye  forget  the  cross,  the  crown  of  thorn  ? 

The  temple  ringeth  to  the  ransomed  host, — 
The  lamb  lies  bleeding  on  the  altar-stone ; 
'Mid  pealing  chant  and  solemn  psalm  is  lost, 
The  parting  sigh,  the  victim's  dying  moan. 
Yet  unto  him  on  high  more  sweetly  rise 
The  piteous  waitings  of  the  sacrifice. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  39 

Chant  then  your  peans  to  the  risen  Lord ! 

Loud  peal  the  Jubilate  and  the  deep  Amen ; 
Ye  raptured  choirs,  break  forth  in  grand  accord 
Till  Heaven  re-echo  to  the  sound  again  ! 
But  ne'er  forget  the  fearful  path  He  trod, 
To  win  unto  your  souls  the  peace  of  God. 


40  I  N  T  O     L  I  G  H  T, 


UNDER    THE     PALMS. 

Proud  is  his  heart,  and  strong  his  limb, 

As  his  own  desert's  tiger  brood, 

And  all  my  soul  is  lost  in  him  ! 

What  recked  he  then,  my  fierce  Mahmoud, 

Of  turbaned  Shiek  or  belted  Khan, 

When  'neath  the  date-palm  spreading  wide, 

With  beating  heart  I  saw  him  ride, 

Along  the  road  to  Toorkistan  ? 

Ah  me! 
Beside  his  saddle-girth  to  be  ! 

Beneath  the  noonday's  breathless  heat, 

The  whitening  sand-leagues  flame  and  glow  ; 

At  eve  the  oasis  odors  sweet, 

Across  the  darkening  deserts  blow. 

But  ne'er  my  hungry  eyes  may  scan, 

By  garish  day  or  evening  tide, 

The  war-troops  of  my  hero  ride, 

Along  the  road  from  Toorkistan. 

Ah  me ! 
The  night-birds  haunt  the  rustling  tree  ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  41 

Up  to  my  scarlet-woven  tent 

The  way-worn  warriors  journey  slow ; 

Why  is  yon  silent  rider  bent 

Upon  his  horse's  saddle  bow  ? 

Each  eye  is  dim,  each  cheek  is  wan, 

Why  pale  before  your  chieftain's  bride  ? 

The  'broidered  burnos  falls  aside  — 

'Tis  he! 
They  bend  their  spear-points  low  to  me ! 


42  INTO    LIGHT, 


HINTS    ON    GRAPE    CULTURE 

Bury  your  dog  in  the  garden  — 
It  will  make  your  grape-vine  grow  ; 

Tenderly  waft  on  the  summer  air, 
A  requiem  soft  and  low ; 

And  let  your  saddest  dirge  be  sung, 
For  a  grief  that  passeth  show ! 

A  dirge,  a  requiem  said  I, — 

Sing  me  a  song  of  the  vine ! 
Of  the  ripe  Catawba's  deepening  bloom, 

And  the  purple  Muscadine  ! 
In  their  mellow  light  thou  liv'st  again, 

O  terrier  of  mine ! 

And  when  I  scent  the  perfumed  leaves, 

In  the  dusky  sunset  glow, 
Methinks  they  yield  their  voiceless  praise, 

To  the  sacrifice  below ! 
Bury  your  dog  in  the  garden  — 

It  will  make  your  grape-vine  grow  ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS. 

And  what  is  earthly  rat-and-tan, 

Tho'  aye  my  cherished  prize, 
To  the  drink  that  moistens  Beauty's  lips, 

And  brightens  Beauty's  eyes  ? 
What  better  boon,  would'st  thou,  O  Jip  — 

What  sweeter  Paradise  ? 


43 


44  INTO    LIGHT, 


MIDNIGHT    ON    BERKSHIRE. 

Midnight  on  Berkshire  !  Grimly,  gaunt,  and  chill, 
Loom  up  the  solemn  sentinels  of  snow, 

Lofty,  and  rock-crowned,  calm  and  changeless  still 
As  in  the  ages  of  the  long-ago. 

Guarding  their  night-camp,  from  the  horizon's  bars 

To  where  their  chief,  old  Greylock,  meets  the  stars  ! 

About  his  feet,  a  stainless  robe  of  white, 

Winds  like-  the  death-pall  of  some  Titan  proud, 

Beneath,  resplendent  in  the  stars  of  night, 
Gleams  the  bright  lake,  a  jewel  in  a  shroud. 

Above,  where  winds  their  requiems  intone, 

Silent  and  pale,  our  mother  stands  alone  ! 

But  hark !  Down  floating  on  aeriel  wing, 
Faint  music  sighs  from  yonder  ivied  tower, 

Do  fairy  elves  their  Christmas  carol  sing  ? 
Is  it  the  tolling  of  the  midnight  hour  ? 

Nay,  nay!  no  joy  those  mournful  breathings  bear ! 

It  is  the  voice  of  pain  —  our  mother's  prayer ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  45 

"Why  have  ye  left  me  ?     Hath  the  love  of  years 
In  later  days  to  utter  coldness  grown  ? 

Is  there  no  melting  in  a  mother's  tears, 
That  ye  must  leave  me  at  the  shrine  alone, 

Ere  up  to  heaven  its  altar-smoke  hath  curled, 

This  holy  hour,  the  birth-night  of  the  world? 

"Forget  not  me !  Though  sundered  far  apart, 
Burns  clear  and  bright  the  sempiternal  flame ! 

Take  ye  the  choicest  treasure  of  my  heart  — 
In  sun,  in  cloud,  forever  more  the  same  ! 

Yea !  till  the  storms  of  life  are  overpast ! 

A  mother's  blessing  —  faithful  to  the  last !  " 


Morning  on  Berkshire !     And  her  rosy  smiles, 
Are  flushing  warm  the  giant  hills  of  snow  ; 

From  Afric's  palms  to  India's  coral  isles, 
Full  many  a  heart  is  bathed  in  richer  glow. 

The  love-winged  prayer  hath  reached  its  destined 
goal, 

Safe  in  the  deep  Shekinah  of  the  soul ! 


-I'i  INTO     LIGHT, 


THE    BACHELOR'S    PRAYER 

Lux  Amoris  caecatura 
Scio  te  ! 

Scintillula  dictatura 

Coget  me. 

Ex  tenebris  coelibatis, 

Ex  arumnis  inoptatis, 

Intercedens  inamatis 

Salve  me  ! 

Mihi  da  in  bonitate 

Illico, 
Ut  credem  im  vetustate 

Domino, 

Uxorculam  fascinantem, 
Me  amantem  delectantem, 
Modo  ut  alaudce  cantem 

Sic  oro. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  47 

Tune  si  mihi  laeto  erit 

Femina, 
(Et  forsan  infantem  feret 

Julia,) 

Semper  gratus  exsultabo, 
Plenus  gaudii  cantabo, 
Donee  morior  clamabo, 

"  Gloria !" 


48  INTO     LIGHT, 


APOTHEOSIS. 

Silent  she  lay,     The  night  grew  old, 

And  moaned  and  wept  in  drip  and  fall  of  rain, 
The  dead  leaves  whistled  from  the  willow  wold, 
In  eddying  gusts  against  the  darkened  pane. 
From  the  white  lips  a  sigh,  a  crooning  strain  — 

I  bent  to  hear, 

"Withered  leaves  and  loves  together, 
"Fall  in  windy,  wintry  weather, 

"Dark  and  drear  !  " 

And  the  pall  of  death  and  silence  gloomed  upon 
my  atmosphere  ? 

Prostrate  I  lay,  and  Griefs  mad  tide, 

In  flooding  surges,  whelmed  and  drowned  my  soul 
Night  falls  again — but  hark !  what  sweet  tones  glide, 
From  star-set  spaces  to  this  darkened  goal  ? 
A  line  of  light  above  the  billow's  roll ! 

I  sprang  to  hear ! 

"Withered  leaves  and  loves  together, 
"Bloom  beside  the  Summer  River, 

"Sweet  and  clear ;" 

And  the   glow   of  Life's   new   morn  illumes   my 
spirit's  atmosphere ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  49 

THE    RITUALIST. 

'Twas  after  Antiphonal  song  at  three, 

And  he  said:  "O  Rector,  list  to  me! 

Weary  and  tempted  and  sick  at  heart, 

I  come  from  the  busy  world  apart, 

Like  a  tired  child  to  its  father's  home, 

Laden  with  grief  and  sin  I  come. 

The  blackened  Past  before  me  stands, 

And  pale  Remorse,  with  her  helpless  hands, 

Ever  and  ever  broodeth  near. 

Hast  thou  no  comfort,  no  word  of  cheer, 

To  heal  the  hurt  of  a  stricken  breast, 

And  soothe  its  storms  into  peaceful  rest  ? 

Pity,  oh  !  pity,  I  pray  of  thee ! 

The  waters  of  Death  go  over  me  ! " 

And  the  Rector  answered,  with  a  frown 

(For  the  stranger  had  rumpled  his  snowy  gown) : 

Your  case  is  a  very  singular  one. 

Twelve  candles  burn  on  the  altar  stone ; 

And  twelve  wax  candles,  twelve  feet  high, 

Might  lift  a  soul  into  ecstasy  ! 

I  can't  account  for  your  present  mood, 


50  INTOLIGHT, 

Have  you  noticed  the  sweep  of  my  scarlet  hood  ? 

Or  fixed  the  gaze  of  your  famished  soul 

On  the  lovely  shade  of  my  broidered  stole  ? 

Perchance  by  grovelling  cares  debased, 

You  lack  the  true  aesthetic  taste. 

Here  is  a  balm  for  your  bleeding  heart, 

A  tract  on  Mediaeval  Art ; 

Twill  heal  your  soul's  rebellious  schism, 

You  need  no  creed  but  symbolism. 

Cast  to  the  winds   your  morbid  woe  ! 

Receive  my  absolution.     Go !  " 

And  a  chilled  and  hardened  heart  went  down, 

To  lose  itself  in  the  giddy  town, 

To  drink  again  at  its  poisoned  springs, 

To  crush  the  birth  of  better  things. 

Yet,  with  the  wreck  so  sadly  wrought, 

Perchance  there  rankled  a  bitter  thought, 

Of  one  whose  saintly  office  gave 

No  grace  to  succor  or  to  save ; 

Whose  life  no  richer  fruit  might  know 

Than  the  dry  husk  of  outward  show, 

No  higher  aim,  no  holier  call, 

Than  the  looking-glass  on  the  vestry  wall! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  51 


STEWART'S     QUARTERLY, 

IN     MEMORIAM. 

We  meet  with  mirth  and  song,  but  lo ! 
We  hear  amid  the  lightsome  strain, 
The  mingled  dropping  of  the  rain, 
And  clouds  obscure  the  after-glow. 

Yet  though  the  dawn  is  faint  afar, 
The  Northern  constellation  dim, 
We  bring  our  meed  of  praise  to  him 
Whose  hand  upheld  its  brightest  star ! 

All  hail  the  patient  purpose  true ! 
For  we  the  golden  maxim  own, 
That  not  to  crowned  success  alone, 
Is  high  appreciation  due. 

The  Faith  that  battles  for  its  prize, 
Thro'  changing  scenes  of  storm  and  calm, 
Hath  it  not  won  the  victor  palm 
Though  trampled  in  the  dust  it  lies  ? 


52  INTO     LIGHT, 

But  Joy  blends  with  our  minor  strain, 
We  watch  with  new  enkindled  hope, 
Upon  the  Future's  horoscope, 
The  fallen  star  arise  again  ! 

And  once  again  one  friend  appears, 

Within  the  Muses*  magic  ring  ; 

The  wine  of  the  Pierian  spring, 

Once  drunk,  will  tinge  the  blood  for  years. 

So,  with  prophetic  ken  to-night, 
We  cease  our  unavailing  moan, 
Blot  out  "Hie  Jacet"  from  the  stone, 
And  in  its  place  "Resurgam"  write. 

May  all  good  gifts  the  gods  dispose, 
Reward  our  honored  guests  emprise, — 
His  pharmaceutic  pharmacies 
Spring  up  and  blossom  as  the  rose. 

Perchance  some  sprite  of  Cupid's  train, 
Such  mystic  knowledge  may  impart, 
Beyond  his  subtlest  chemic  art, 
That  brighter  treasure  he  shall  gain. 


AND      OTHER     POEMS.  53 

For  him  our  aspirations  rise, 
That  fate  may  yield  its  richest  store, 
All  gain  pressed  down  and  running  o'er, 
All  loss,  but  blessings  in  disguise. 

And  that  he  'ever  more  may  feel, 
Amid  the  round  of  daily  cares, 
Thro'  pharmacopolistic  airs, 
The  grateful  breath  of  laurel  steal. 


54  INTO    LIGHT, 


UNCHANGEABLE. 

SaicTst  thou,  the  world  is  wide  and  I  may  roam  ? 

Nay  love !     'Tis  centered  in  thy  breast, 

A  dark  and  holiow  void  is  all  the  rest, 

I  know  no  world  beside  thy  heart,  my  home  ! 

Said'st  thou,  the  over-arching  skies  are  blue  ? 
Yea  love !  but  far  more  blissful  skies 
Beam  on  my  spirit  from  thy  tender  eyes, 
While  clear  and  bright   the  sun    thy  soul   shines 
through. 

Said'st  thou,  the  fields  are  green,  and  I  as  well ! 

By  Jove,  I  ne'er  could  thee  abide ! 

I  ever  thought  thee  cross  and  evil-eyed ! 

I  ne'er  did  love  thee,  't  was  a  hoax,  a  sell ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  55 


M.    D.    TO    EM-MA. 

On  leaden  wings  the  dusky  night  is  borne, 
And  all  the  sombre  scene  is  sad  and  drear, 

My  mourning  soul  with  cardiac  grief  is  torn, 
And  lo  !  mine  inner  canthus  hides  a  tear ! 

A  thousand  weary  leagues  between  us  lie  ; 

They  hide  from  me  thy  youthful  image  fair, 
Nor  keenest  optic  nerve  can  thee  descry, 

Nor  retina  thy  lovely  impress  bear. 

With  sympathetic  action  deep  and  strong, 
My  heavy  eyes  abhor  the  light  of  day, 

I  hear  the  husky  rale  sous-crepitant, 

And  hark !  the  hissing  bruit  de  soufflet ! 

The  pangs  of  hepatitis  rack  me  sore, 
And  cephalalgia  beats  my  frontal  bone, 

As  though  the  great  aorta  madly  bore, 
Its  throbbing  current  to  that  part  alone. 


56  INTO     LIGHT, 

Hydrargyri  Submurias  in  vain, 
Combats  the  hypersthenia  of  my  blood  : 

Nor  can  I  find  a  blest  relief  from  pain, 
In  Zinci  Sulph.,  or  Potass.  Hydriod. 

Saccharum  Lac,  no  benefit  imparts  ; 

No  Hahnnemanian  phantasies  for  me  ! 
"A  douche  !  "  said'st  thou  ?  A  thHll  of  horror  starts, 

And  creeps  along  my  dorsal  vertebrae. 

All  therapeutic  arts  the  virtue  lack, 

To  heal  this  cumulative  weight  of  woe  ; 

Haste,  tensor  tarsi ;  and  compress  the  sac, 
And  bid  the  lachrymal  secretions  flow  ! 

Alas  !  my  life,  'tis  thou,  and  thou  alone, 

Cans't  heal  the  myriad  woes  I  now  deplore  ; 

Cans't  give  my  febrile  pulse  its  normal  tone, 
And  all  my  lost  tonicity  restore. 

I  breathe  once  more  unchanging  love  for  thee ! 

Thy  sacred  pledge  with  fond  affection  keep, 
Till  I  at  last  my  former  patrons  see, 

And  sleep  with  them  the  everlasting  sleep. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  57 


CHRISTMAS    CAROL. 

To-day  the  joy  bells  of  the  world 

Chime  forth  in  sweet  accord ; 
O'er  the  round  earth,  the  hearts  of  men 

Draw  nearer  to  their  Lord. 
Where  roll  the  Australasian  seas, 

And  tropic  fountains  flow, 
To  where  the  starlight  sparkles  back 

A  thousand  leagues  of  snow. 

To-day  all  mingling  pathways  lead 

Up  History's  incline, 
To  where  the  shepherds  kept  their  sheep, 

That  night  in  Palestine. 
The  angel's  song  o'er  land  and  sea, 

Is  ringing  sweeter  far  ; 
Though  constellations  rise  and  set, 

Still  shines  the  Eastern  Star. 


58  INTO    LIGHT, 

O,  tender  Faith  !  O,  constant  Friend  ! 

O,  Christ  Child,  hear  our  prayer ! 
Breathe  thou  upon  our  hearts,  and  leave 

Thy  benediction  there. 
Shine  thou  our  star  when  wild  and  drear, 

The  night's  dark  waters  roll  ; 
Till  on  our  dazzled  vision  breaks 

The  sun-rise  of  the  soul. 


AND     OTHER    POEMS.  59 


"DELICIOUS." 

When  breakfast  is  over  and  ended, 
And  Bridget  has  vanished  below, 

And  Thomas  has  brought  me  my  paper, 
(The  respectable  Daily,  you  know.) 

I  skip  from  the  Union  Pacifies, 
As  I  sit  in  my  morning  robe, 

To  what  of  all  else  interests  me, 
The  doings  last  night  at  the  Globe. 

And  I  read  with  the  deepest  attention, 
How  the  comedy  sparkled  and  shone. 

How  this  thing  or  that  was  "delicious"  — 
And  I  lay  down  the  paper  and  groan. 

For  I  recognize  Monsieur  Tonson, 

(If  I  may  by  similie  speak,) 
Who  visits  me  Monday  and  Tuesday, 

And  every  day  in  the  week. 


60 


And  I  think  of  poor  Barnaby's  raven, 
Or  the  same  dismal  creature  of  Poe, 

Who  croaked  his  one  word  without  ceasing, 
Nor  let  one  opportunity  go. 

For  "delicious/'  "delicious,"  "delicious/' 
Et  toujours,  "delicious,"  in  short, 

Is  the  strain  that  they  sing  in  the  'Tiser, 
In  the  musical  critic's  report. 

The  wit  of  Le  Moyne  is  "delicious/' 
And  "delicious  "  the  humor  of  Floyd ; 

How  sad  that  the  troubles  with  Fechter, 
The  "delicious  "  ensemble  alloyed  ! 

"Delicious  "  Chanfrau  is  "delicious  " 

(I  forgive  him  !     Our  treasure  is  trove  ! 

I  "see "  his  delicious,  by  gracious  ! 
And  go  him  one  better,  by  Jove  !  ) 

How  can  I  enjoy  the  "Financials," 
Or  the  notes  from  the  General  Court, 

When  I'm  sure  to  be  floored  by  "delicious," 
In  the  musical  critic's  report  ? 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  61 

"The  adjective,"  quoth  the  French  proverb, 
"Is  the  deadliest  foe  of  the  noun," 

Methinks  it  behooveth  old  Nomen, 
To  look  to  his  kingdom  and  crown. 


INTO     LIGHT, 


L'INFERNO. 

Fierce  and  hot  are  the  fires  of  Hell  ! 
The  streams  of  molten  lava  flowing, 
The  heated  furnace  madly  glowing, 
And  a  thousand  writhing  tongues  of  flame, 
That  dart  from  the  pit  with  a  demon's  aim, 
And  burn  their  way  to  the  tortured  soul. 
Bright  are  the  blazing  stones  beneath, 
Heavy  and  dark  the  clouds  that  roll, 
Where  millions  are  dying  the  living  death  ! 

Dead  ashes  fall, 

The  vault  is  hung  with  a  smoky  pall, 
And  the  glare  of  the  Fiend  is  over  all ! 

Alas  !  the  horrible  dark  despair 

Of  the  wretched  who  suffer  forever  there  ! 

Unheard  are  their  piteous  prayers  and  crying  ; 

For  the  grisly  Shape  on  the  torture-seat, 

Doth  greedily  drink  in  the  music  sweet, 

Of  their  sorrowful  moans  and  stifled  sighing  — 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  63 

How  dear  to  his  heart  are  the  groans  of  the  dying  ' 

That  quivering  cry  ! 
And  now  doth  the  gleeful  goblin  gloat, 
For  their  souls  in  the  fiery  furnace  float ! 

O,  the  wailing  chorus  high  ! 

O,  the  smoke  of  their  agony ! 

Ever  the  ceaseless  ages  roll, 

And  bring  new  pain  to  the  frenzied  soul ! 

Still  do  they  howl  from  the  blackened  pit, 

Who  in  the  dull  red  embers  sit. 
Ever  the  Fiend  their  life-blood  drains, 
Still  do  they  drag  their  rusted  chains, 
Until  the  festering  flesh  doth  rot  — 
Still  crowd  the  lost  their  thirst  to  slake, 
By  the  lurid  glare  of  the  seething  lake,. 
Which  burneth  with  brimstone  forever  and  aye  ! 
Ever  the  shrieks  of  anguish  swell : 
O,  the  pangs  of  the  damned  in  Hell ! 
O,  the  thought  of  Eternity  ! 


I '»  1  INTOLIGHT, 


LOVE    AND    INSURANCE. 
A  TALE  OF  CHICAGO. 

Down  sink  the  flames  ;  the  roar  is  hushed, 

The  embers'  fitful  flashes 
Illume  a  queenly  city  dead, 

All  wreathed  and  robed  in  ashes  ! 
Yet  blithe  and  gay  I  sing  to-day 

My  grateful  heart's  hosanna, 
Undimmed  amid  the  darkness  shines 

The  love  of  Juliana  ! 

Ere  -yet  the  fire-flakes  ceased  to  fall 

With  eager  feet  I  sought  her, 
And  sped  through  clouds  of  blinding  smoke, 

Unto  the  Western  quarter. 
Oh,  port  of  peace  !  oh,  sweet  release, 

From  toil  and  mad  endeavor ! 
The  spot  where  heart  had  leapt  to  heart 

To  thrill  and  throb  forever ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  65 

"Come  to  my  arms  !     Tho'  fled  away 

Are  block  and  store  and  villa, 
I  still"— "Indeed!  don't  soil,  I  pray, 

My  new  gros-grain  mantilla  ! 
If  Major  Mann,  of  Michigan 

Should  call,  admit  him,  Phronie, 
I  beg  you  won't  prolong  your  stay, 

Through  needless  ceremony." 

"Alas  !  oh  happy  dream  !  "  I  cried, 

"Is  this  thy  rude  awaking  ? 
What  /boots  it  now  that  wealth  is  spared, 

When  hearts  like  mine  are  breaking  ! 
Why  with  the  -          -  was  I  insured  ? 

Why  did  not  Fortune's  flashes, 
Sink  down  beneath  -         -'st  fall, 

To  lie  with  Love  in  ashes  !  " 

The  cold  face  changed  ;  the  haughty  eyes, 

Their  wonted  gleam  recover, 
Forth  from  her  breast  she  drew  a  list, 

And  closely  scanned  it  over. 
"My  own  !  "  she  cried,"  whate'er  betide, 

Our  hearts  can  ne'er  dissever, 


66  INTO     LIGHT, 

For  Woman's  love  unfading  burns, 
Forever  and  forever  !  " 

Oh,  tender  faith  !  oh,  constant  soul ! 

That  priceless  pearl  possessing, 
The  shades  of  Life  are  limned  with  light, 

Each  sorrow  crowned  with  blessing. 
So  blithe  and  gay  I  sing  to-day, 

My  grateful  heart's  hosanna, 
A  star  amid  the  darkness  shines  — 

The  love  of  Juliana  ! 


AND     OTHER     POEMS,  67 


SIR    LAWRENCE. 

Sir  Lawrence  seized  his  sword, 
Where  it  hung  in  its  place  on  the  wall, 
But  his  trembling  hands  vain  essay  make, 
At  once  the  knotted  vines  to  break, 
The  budding  vines  that  Edith  loved, 
And  trained  on  the  sides  of  the  Hall. 

Sir  Lawrence  dropped  his  sword, 

And  paled  each  knightly  scar  ! 

"I  shame  me  of  my  hasty  thought! 

"Sure  Heaven  doth  spare  the  ruin  wrought, 

"When  gentle  maidens  tended  vines, 

"Can  chain  the  shafts  of  war  ! 


68  INTO     LIGHT, 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ERIE    (Canal.) 

Cans't  hear  unmoved  a  stirring  tale 

Of  true  love  well  requited, 
Yet  see  at  last  two  golden  lives 

In  blackest  clouds  benighted, 

Nor  weep  much  ? 

Then  hie  with  me  to  yonder  bank, 

We'll  hear  the  piteous  story, 
And  watch  the  mules  and  boats  go  by, 

Into  the  Western  glory, 

Toward  Lockport. 

James  and  Melinda  —  simple  names, 
I  throw  no  spell  around  them  ? 

His  father  tended  Se well's  lock, 
Alas  !  no  more  he'll  pound  them 

For  skylarking. 


AND     OTHER     POEMS.  69 

But  James  was  of  a  noble  soul : 
He  saw,  as  years  passed  o'er  him, 

A  blessed  vision  —  to  be  wed  — 
By  Rev.  Mr.  Jorim, 

And  keep  house. 

For  years  before,  one  waggish  Jones, 
Had  "stuffed  "  our  simple  tyro : 

"The  tolls  on  all  canals  are  yours 
"From  Halifax  to  Cairo!" 

Great  case,  Jones ! 

"  You  are  the  Prince  of  Erie  !     List  — 
"Such  sums !     I  cannot  name  them  ! 

"In  all  your  princely  dignity, 

"Step  boldly  up  and  claim  them  " 

"  'magine  the  old  man  !  " 

•  From  thence,  thro'  all  the  changing  years 

This  mystic  legend  thralled  him, 
And  rank,  and  fame,  and  endless  wealth, 
In  nightly  visions  called  him ! 

Mince  pie,  p'r'aps. 


70  I  N  T  O     L  I  G  H  T  , 

At  length  arrived  at  man's  estate, 

He  boldly  strode  to  Sewell's  ; 
"Give  me  my  bins  and  bars  of  gold, 

"My  bags  and  bales  of  jewels  I " 

Oh  that  Jones! 

His  father  answered  ne'er  a  word, 
But  from  his  feet  he  "  yanked  "  him, 

And  in  the  good  old-fashioned  way 
He  soundly,  loudly  spanked  him. 

O  days  of  youth  ! 

"You  tarnal  fool!"  he  spoke  at  last, 
When  he  his  breath  could  gather, 

44 You  who  haint  got  a  cent  on  earth, 
"To  try  to  bluff  your  father  ? " 

He  was  mad. 

"I  *11  plan  your  summer  trip,  my  lad, 
"You  '11  trudge  to  old  Miss  Dinah's, 

"And  tend  her  drove  of  squealing  pigs, 
"Perhaps  they  '11  root  your  shiners." 

Sarcastic. 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  71 

This  to  the  Prince.     He  turned  away. 

That  night  two  halting  shadows 
Crept  up  into  the  water-mist, 

Beyond  the  Thorburn  meadows. 

'Tis  soon  told. 

They  stood  upon  the  bank  ;  one  leap  ; 

The  wealth  the  world  denied  them, 
Have  they  not  found  it,  close  embraced, 

Where  lilies  sway  beside  them  ? 

I  guess  not. 

» 

For  woe,  alas,  some  passing  boat 
With  careless  noose  must  find  him, 

And  he  was  towed  to  Albany, 
While  she  remained  behind  him. 

Poor  Melinda. 

Now,  in  the  Capitol,  'tis  said, 

When  tolls  are  raised  on  Erie, 
The  members  see  a  spirit  face, 

A  visage  wild  and  skeery. 

Ghosts  love  money. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  boojcs^are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

tf 


'.558  L.U, 


m 


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